i still have the stapler though

we were

called into the meeting

on Friday morning,

bright and early.

and then

the boss

spoke to us as we sat

nervously in our seats.

it is what it is,

he said.

we've run the numbers

up the flagpole,

we've kicked the tires,

but this old horse

is dead.

we can't bring it to the trough

to drink

water anymore,

not that it ever did.

we looked at one another,

and shrugged,

murmured, what

the hell is he talking about.

is he drinking?

it's not you, it's me, he said.

the numbers don't lie.

it's the economy.

it's the price of eggs.

so we have to let many of you go.

but thank you for

working here.

you have ten minutes to pack

your things

and leave.

i'm sorry, but it is what it is.

then he called 

for security to swiftly move in.